


It'll Sound Like A Promise

by mylordshesacactus



Series: The Barrissoka Fusion You Never Knew You Wanted [3]
Category: Brave (2012), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/F, Gen, Inspired by Disney, Pre-Relationship, Rex is a bird, someone please get Luminara Unduli a drink, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylordshesacactus/pseuds/mylordshesacactus
Summary: A clan leader’s heir had to strive for perfection.That was why Ahsoka was currently hiding in a tree.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I used to write things that weren't barrissoka Disney AUs? Want to go back to those times? Too bad. This is my life now.

A princess must strive for perfection.

Barriss had grown up with that knowledge. With her father’s death in the war when she was barely more than an infant, the weight of being her kingdom’s sole heir pressed on her every day. There _was_ no one else to take on that burden, and there never would be. One day, Barriss would be leading her people, and she would be doing it alone.

There were duties she had to fulfill, responsibilities that must be discharged not only to the best of her ability but beyond that, if her best wasn’t good enough. For right now, the Queen was still able to step in and gently take over if a given task proved beyond Barriss’ skills.

It never failed to make her flush miserably whenever her mother had to take something off her hands. She was _trying,_ and if she was assigned a task it meant she was supposed to be able to figure out how to complete it. Failure might only be embarrassing now; someday, it could spell disaster for her people.

“It’s all right, Barriss,” her mother would say, with an understanding smile that only made it worse. And than, in that same even, reassuring tone, she would lay out exactly what her daughter had done wrong and explain how to fix it. “You’re still learning.”

It always seemed so simple, in her mother’s hands.

Barriss was meant to become a second Queen Luminara, someday. She wanted to, more than anything, but she wasn’t...she didn’t think she ever could.

At least a princess’ responsibilities left little enough time for useless fretting. She didn’t even lie awake at nights worrying anymore the way she had when she was younger; by the time she got to bed she was too exhausted.

There was just...so much to learn. She’d known from the cradle how much work a monarch faced, but even now, every time she thought her mother had finally arranged lessons in every possible field of study known to mankind, she was given another.

A queen had to have knowledge of law and economics, of course, and languages, and be intimately familiar with geography and politics. But she also needed to have a strong grasp of sports, of all things; traditions which were important to her people had to have importance to her. Relating to that, Barriss had also been given lessons in poetry and folk legends alongside history and oration and deportment the arts of war and embroidery and healing and…

With all of those skills of critical importance still unmastered it felt like an unforgivable waste of time that Barriss was still expected to attend to the same music lessons she’d been taking since her childhood, several hours a week and even more dedicated to practice, but her mother raised a single eyebrow and Barriss’ protests died obediently in her throat. Add to that hawking and hunting and animal husbandry for some reason…

It wasn’t _possible_ to achieve perfect skill and knowledge in everything a queen needed to be perfect at. It couldn’t be done. But if it was an easy job, anyone could do it. Barriss knew how lucky she was. She’d been born through no achievement of her own into wealth and power, she had the safety of castle walls and loyal guards around her, she had access to a fortune in food alone at any given moment. And in exchange for that, she had to be perfect.

At the very least she had to try.

* * *

A clan leader’s heir had to strive for perfection.

That was why Ahsoka was currently hiding in a tree, sword slung over her back and sighing unhappily as the sun set over the mountains.

She had so few days to herself, and this one had been wonderful. She really, _really_ didn’t want it to end. For more reasons than one, this time around.

“Ahsoka!”

Ahsoka put a finger to her lips as she turned to the white gyrfalcon perched in the tree nearby. She hadn’t been working him very long. Her brother had only recently let her move on from the smaller birds she was accustomed to; she’d thought for a while she’d be hawking with kestrels until she died. But Rex had been a gift for her most recent birthday. He was huge, powerful, much harder to handle than any other bird she’d worked with, but he was worth it. Every moment she could sneak away from her history and politics lessons, she was training with him.

Their father disapproved, of course. He said seventeen-year-old girls didn’t fly gyrfalcons, it just wasn’t done. Anakin just grinned and said Rex was working _her,_ and if she could handle him then he didn’t see a problem. Sometimes, Ahsoka really loved her brother.

Their clan colors were white and blue, so she’d taken to working her sigils painstakingly into Rex’s wings with navy dye. He tolerated it, mostly.

“Don’t give us away, boy,” she whispered now. Rex, unimpressed, preened his chest.

Anakin’s voice got closer until he got close enough that Ahsoka could make him out through the trees. She held her breath as he called her name again, then let it out as he moved off.

Unfortunately, Rex was a very well-trained hunting falcon, and Anakin was an evil genius who was casually waving a lure as he searched.

“No!” Ahsoka hissed, but with a flash of white and blue her bird, the filthy traitor, was in Anakin’s hand.

She heard her brother laugh, and muttered under her breath as she started climbing down to meet him. She hadn’t made it very far before she looked down and saw him waiting beneath her, with Rex perched on the saddle of the dun pony tied to Anakin's.

“Hey there, Snips,” he called up to her. “You should go a little farther next time, I think there’s a few maps of the known world we haven’t fallen off the edge of yet.”

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out, and he laughed.

“You two have fun?” he asked.

Biting her lip, Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder.

“I, uh...I drank from the Firefalls,” she said.

Anakin was quiet for a moment, and his voice was a little less joking when he responded.

“You know,” he called. “They _say_ only the ancient kings were brave enough to drink the fire.”

Ahsoka paused for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said softly. She’d hoped it might...well, she’d wanted to seek a little of the courage of those ancient warriors. Bring it into herself. She’d needed that fire today, and in the moment, drinking freezing-cold flames so high above the world that Rex had been circling _beneath_ her, she’d felt it. Just a taste, a hint, like drums echoing from a distance.

Anakin smiled.

“C’mon, Snips,” he told her. “Time to come home.”

“I’m coming,” she muttered, fighting down the wild turmoil in her stomach and the irrational urge to refuse to come down. Even aside from the fact that the heir to the clan leader couldn’t actually live in a tree forever, if she made Anakin come and get her he would _do_ it. She’d just as soon ride back home under her own power, since option two was being trussed up like a stag, slung over her pony’s back, and brought in that way.

Not that she was speaking from experience or anything.

“I don’t like you,” she said as soon as she got her feet on the ground. Anakin’s mount Resolute, a grey mare with an attitude problem who was almost big enough to be a horse, snorted in deep offense. Ahsoka ignored her, and Anakin ignored Ahsoka.

She didn’t look at him as she swung herself up onto her stallion’s back, trying not to be angry with him. It wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t anyone’s fault, she just…

Anakin brought Resolute up next to her and reached over, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll be fine,” he promised. Ahsoka gave him a weak smile and didn’t answer.

After a long, tense silence, she offered Rex her glove and kissed his head when he stepped up onto it, then tossed him free.

“What,” said Anakin. “Rex has to fly home?"

Ahsoka shortened her reins. “He’s the judge,” she said. “Race you!”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond. She kicked Fulcrum into a gallop, and tried to let the little highland pony’s snort of delight as he bolted for the horizon banish her worries for a little while.

They were leaving in the morning.

* * *

Barriss glanced up at her mother and snuck another sweet bun while she wasn’t watching.

“Eat your venison, my dear,” the Queen commented idly, taking a sip of wine without looking up from the letters she was perusing. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

Very carefully, Barriss placed the raspberry bun back on its serving platter and took an obedient bite of her meal. Her mother glanced up, eyes twinkling, and winked at her before turning back to her papers.

“I do apologize, Barriss,” she said as her daughter picked at her meal. “You know I hate to work over supper, but a few things have fallen behind recently.”

Barriss hesitated. “Do you suppose...I might be able to help?” she offered. As if she wasn’t busy enough already. But she could have a few long nights in order to help her mother get everything under control.

The Queen looked at her again, expression fond and deeply approving.

“I appreciate that,” she said gently. “But I believe I can manage, and I expect you’ll be more busy than usual soon yourself. If you’re eager to help, I may pass on a few farmland disputes for you to see about mediating. It would free up some time for me over the next few days.”

Barriss inclined her head. “Of course, mother.”

There was a polite knock on the door before Gree, their loyal guard-captain, let himself in.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” he said politely. “But you asked me to bring you these as soon as possible, and the courier’s just returned.”

Her mother’s eyes lit up, and Barriss paused with her fork halfway to her mouth to watch with curiosity as Gree handed over a small pile of letters. Her mother skimmed the first, then looked up and motioned Gree to sit down next to her and handed him half the pile. Barriss glanced between them as they looked through the letters, growing more and more curious as both of their smiles grew with each piece of parchment.

“Mother?” she finally asked.

“They’ve all accepted,” Gree reported, and the Queen gave a delighted laugh.

“As have mine,” she said, and her satisfaction wavered only slightly as she took in Barriss’ bewildered expression. “Ahem...thank you, Gree. If you would be so kind as to give us the room, I need to speak with my daughter.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

As the armsman left them, Barriss’ mother gave her a reassuring smile and motioned for the princess to join her. Feeling suddenly anxious, Barriss stood and relocated to Gree’s recently-vacated seat at her mother’s left hand.

“I sent a series of messages out to the clans several months ago,” the Queen began in such a carefully soothing tone that Barriss’ nervousness ratcheted several degrees tighter. Her mother never wrapped statements in lambswool for her; whatever this was, it must be bad. “I’ve just received their replies. The lords of the seven clans with whom I am willing to make an offer of alliance have agreed to present their heirs here in two week’s time.”

Barriss nodded slowly, waiting for the axe to fall. “It...sounds like a ceremony that could increase inter-clan unity, mother.”

Her mother made a pained expression that quickly became one of pity.

“Barriss,” she tried again. “The lords will be presenting their heirs to you in two weeks’ time.”

Oh. _Oh._

Barriss must have gone more pale than she realized, if the sudden alarm on her mother’s face was anything to judge by.

She took a deep breath.

“I see,” she said evenly. She was surprised she was able to make herself heard in so quiet a voice, considering the chorus of screaming and clamoring alarm bells in her head. “I imagine there will be the traditional sort of games for the suitors? Have preparations begun, or were we waiting until the clans had confirmed their numbers?”

Her mother still looked deeply concerned, but she answered, “I’ve made most major arrangements, but as you can imagine there are details about which I would very much like your input. It is after all your betrothal ceremony, my dear.”

“Of course.” Barriss’ voice was hollow, but eighteen years of speaking lessons meant it was clear and unwavering. “I’m at your disposal, mother, and I appreciate the sentiment.”

There was a long silence. Barriss wished her mother would stop... _looking_ at her like that, she was handling this properly, wasn’t she? She knew how important this was, she knew it was part of her job, she just...hadn’t realized it would be so soon…but if her mother thought it was time, then Barriss had her duty.

“This is what I have been preparing you for,” her mother said quietly.

“For my whole life,” Barriss managed. “Yes. I understand. I’m sure the suitors will represent their clans well. May I be excused? I’d like to rest before we begin preparations in the morning.”

* * *

It was only her mother’s presence that kept Barriss from pacing the room like a caged bear.

Normally, having the Queen close at hand and lavishing all her attention on Barriss was a balm like no other, but today, when Barriss wanted nothing quite so much as to disappear into the stonework, she felt smothered. But her mother would worry if she stalked up and down the room, so she was quiet and stood still and smiled.

She took half a step to the side as her mother adjusted the clasp of Barriss’ cloak, and hoped it wouldn’t hurt the Queen’s feelings.

“Remember, my dear,” the Queen told her. At least that awful wary tone was gone from her voice; the genuine softness was so much gentler on Barriss’ nerves. “Seven clans, seven suitors. They may not all be intending to make serious proposals, you understand; I know Clan Windu’s heir is still a young child. They’ve only come as a gesture of political support, and to let the boy enjoy the games.”

Barriss nodded. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset by that. Certainly it was one less suitor to worry about—but it also meant one fewer option.

“The games will be open to all, following the presentation of the suitors.” Barriss knew all of this already—they had gone over it more times than she could count. But it was grounding to revisit the plan. Plans were comforting. She liked plans. “There will be a variety of events in which the suitors can demonstrate their skills. It’s expected that you will be present for as many of these as possible.”

“Yes, mother.”

Her mother’s hands paused, hesitating before she continued checking every inch of Barriss’ dress.

“If you wish, you may name a single competition, the results of which will decide which suitor you choose; or you may leave the competition open, and—”

“Yes,” Barriss said quickly, then flushed. She’d panicked at the idea of pinning her future on the results of a single event. “I apologize. I only…”

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. “A wise decision,” she said kindly. As Barriss turned to face her, she saw her mother’s throat work as if she wanted to say something more, but the moment passed.

“Do you have any questions about the proceedings?” she asked.

Barriss swallowed hard around a lump in her throat. She had too many questions. _How do I decide?_ She’d had lessons in everything a Queen could possibly need to know, she knew a great deal about the...mechanics of the whole thing, but...but somehow this simple, massive decision had never come up in her lessons. Surely there had to be a book, or something…?

_What if they’re all monsters? How do I tell, what do I look for? What do I do if the stronger clans take offense? How am I meant to interact with them, afterward?_

_How did_ you _choose?_

_Were you happy?_

But she didn’t know how to ask any of those things. She knew how to sit attentively at her mother’s side, she knew how to learn, she knew how to ask questions in a lesson, but...this wasn’t a lesson. Not anymore. She wouldn’t be tested on this. And she didn’t know how to…

“No, mother.” She smiled. “I’m fine.”

Her mother placed a hand on her cheek, and for a moment Barriss’ fears were quieter.

“I am very proud of you, my dear,” the Queen said softly, just as the first horns rang out in the distance.

Just like that, Barriss’ terror was back in full force. The clans had arrived.

* * *

“See?” Anakin said smugly. “Now aren’t you glad we decided to ride?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t disagree with him. She was nervous enough without rowing dramatically up to the cliffs in the warships like the ones below them, horns blowing and drums pounding. She gripped Fulcrum’s thick, mouse-dun mane and thanked fate they lived close enough to Clan Unduli that overland travel was an option.

“My butt still hurts,” she said uncharitably.

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. “I’m quite certain everyone’s _butts hurt,_ my dear. I doubt sitting about up here is going to improve the situation.”

Ahsoka made a face. _She’d_ been the one who reined to a halt at the crest of the hill. She hadn’t been able to help it; the castle put Clan Kenobi’s to shame, and her mouth had gone dry at the flags blowing wildly over the towers in Unduli copper-on-blue-on-emerald. Fairgrounds spread out around the castle walls, and even from up here she could smell the smoke from the ovens and open-air fire pits preparing days’ worth of feasts for the games.

The...princess’ betrothal games. Where someone was going to end up betrothed.

Deep breaths, Ahsoka.

Rex nipped at her ungloved hand, and she stroked his head in apology for clenching her fists so tightly. Obi-Wan, as her guardian, had sighed when he realized she intended to bring her bird, but he hadn’t objected. Maybe he just thought that riding up with a gyrfalcon would impress the princess, or maybe he knew that having Rex’s quiet strength so close was keeping her calmer. Maybe it was a little of both.

The drums down below were reaching a fever pitch. Two ships—one flying a flag of cheerful light-and-dark green, the other a bold red on black—had just barely pulled abreast of each other, and were now rowing frantically on opposite sides of the inlet, transparently trying to outpace one another as they raced toward the docks.

Even Obi-Wan chuckled as the third ship, a sleek vessel bearing the unmistakable purple sigil of Windu, slipped silently between them with only a single calm drum keeping the pace, and left them in its wake as it charged toward the docks.

Well, one-upping the other clans at least was something Ahsoka was familiar with. Courtship, marriage, not so much, but…

“That’s Clan Dooku, isn’t it?” she said, pointing to the black-and-red vessel.

Anakin made a face. _“Oh,_ yeah. What’re they doing here? Their heir’s crazy, no way is Unduli’s girl going anywhere close.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “For the same reason Windu is here, I imagine. We never do seem to miss an opportunity to show off, do we?”

“Free food,” Anakin countered.

“Ah. Yes, you may be right. Ahsoka, why do you ask?”

She glanced over. “Because I bet we can beat ‘em to the castle.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond other than to wave a hand. Anakin obligingly raised Kenobi’s blue-on-white banner, and before Ahsoka could protest the men they’d brought with them had all started blowing their horns.

“Perfect,” she growled, and then let Fulcrum loose. Now that they’d announced themselves, no _way_ were they about to let Dooku get there first.

* * *

Sick to her stomach as Barriss still was, she was also having to fight the urge to laugh.

Clan Windu, with its current head presenting her young Caleb, had made its announcement with admirable pride but only the normal level of exaggeration. Barriss suspected they had slightly overstated the little lordling’s prowess with horse and sword, as Caleb looked barely old enough to ride anything bigger than a Shetland pony; but she supposed it was _possible_ that he had indeed ridden at the head of a hunt, and even made the finishing blow on a fine stag as claimed.

Things had escalated exponentially from that point. She thought her mother might be regretting not giving Dooku its turn straightaway; as essential as it was not to insult such an...unpredictable...clan by associating them so clearly with a nonexistent suit, it had also allowed them to benefit from the continual one-upmanship of three more clans before it. By the time Clan Fisto was finished cheerfully recounting the time Nahdar had choked two bears to death with one hand while dueling six Romans with the other, things were getting a bit out of hand.

At least they were being light on the gory details. Lord Tyrannus of Clan Dooku’s presentation of his suitor had lavished attention on her many victories against absurdly large numbers of foes. Barriss took one look at the woman and didn’t doubt that she could take a great many men at once, but two thousand on an open field seemed slightly excessive even without the precise accounts of exactly how and where she had sliced their unsuspecting bodies open or the loving descriptions of the types of organs and blood spray produced.

It was a good thing Barriss had been too nervous this morning to eat breakfast.

“Thank you, Lord Fisto,” said her mother. “And…”

The next clan stepped forward, pushing a handsome young man to the center. He gave Barriss what he clearly thought was an unobtrusive once-over before giving a low, polite bow. She smiled at him, figuring she might as well encourage someone who had bathed in the last year, didn’t look like he murdered cats for fun, and was old enough to shave.

“Clan Bonteri,” his presenter announced herself. “Presenting my son Lux, who single-handedly broke the walls of ten Roman forts with his own sword, and, by himself, slaughtered a _hundred thousand foes!”_

There was an awkward silence.

“Sure he did,” muttered someone in the crowd.

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!” demanded a voice from the Bonteri section of the crowd.

“That the boy has clearly never held a sword in his life,” Dooku commented in a drawl, and the Queen leapt to her feet before the bristling weapons suddenly making up the entire great hall could start flying.

“My lords,” she said sharply. With a great deal of grumbling and several hissed insults, the clans subsided. After a moment, someone cleared his throat mildly.

The Queen sighed. “Yes?”

A bearded man, short but athletic, stepped forward, raising an eyebrow in clear amusement. “If I may.”

Barriss’ mother shook her head slightly and gestured for him to go on.

The representatives of Clan Kenobi had been surprisingly quiet until now, and their lord gave a bow that was just barely on the right side of impertinent before gesturing to the young man at his left. “This would be my eldest,” he said. “Anakin, whom most in this room will be aware won his eternal glory and so forth by leading his men in warships against the Roman armada and, armed only with his sword, leapt from ship to ship and destroyed masts and steering with mighty swings, et cetera, forever known to our people as Sky-Walker for the feats of daring.”

The lack of eye-rolling in the audience piqued Barriss’ interest. She...supposed Anakin wasn’t ugly, even with the scar over his eye, but there was an intensity about him that she didn’t like. He took up too much room with his stance, and his gestures were too tense, too impatient. She didn’t know that she could ever…

“However,” Lord Kenobi continued in that same wry tone, “Anakin has inconveniently secured his own marriage several years ago now, and as such is hardly available for betrothal. I mention him only because his wife has recently given birth safely to healthy twins, and he is insufferably proud of it.”

Lord Fisto laughed. “As well he should be!” he called from across the hall. “Are we to understand that Kenobi offers no suitor, then?”

“Well, I never said that.” Lord Kenobi gestured toward the clan, and a young woman stepped forward. She certainly looked nothing like her clan leaders; dark-skinned and built slight but strong, with ocean-blue eyes, she wore clan marks on her cheeks in vivid white and ribbons in Kenobi’s colors woven in crisscross patterns through waist-length braids.

She held herself as well as any of the others but had a much...quieter look about her, steadier, despite clearly being nervous. Unlike many of the others, she didn’t draw or flourish her sword; just rested one hand on the hilt and met Barriss’ eyes, nodding to her with a shaky smile.

Barriss’ mother inclined her head in greeting. “And this is?”

As if she didn’t know. Still, Lord Kenobi seemed to have been waiting for the cue.

“My heir,” he answered, “as Anakin intends to leave for his wife’s clan once he’s no longer needed at home. Ahsoka is young but not untested. Twice, she faced the infamous bandit king Grievous—once while protecting a group of village children against him and his horde—and, clearly, survived to tell the tale.”

One of the other clan leaders snorted.

“What,” he said. “That’s it? Didn’t even kill the bastard?"

Ahsoka spoke for the first time, her tight shoulders relaxing into a confidently casual stance as she looked over her shoulder and gave a crooked grin.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s all. Except I actually _did_ it."

Barriss fought back a sudden, unexpected laugh at the indignation the young woman’s simple statement had sent rippling through the hall. Normally she didn’t like troublemakers, but the blow had just been too masterful not to appreciate. For a solid two seconds, the other clans couldn’t believe what they’d just heard.

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!” demanded the same voice from before, and the hall erupted into chaos.

Barriss cast her mother a panicked look, but the Queen didn’t seem concerned. Barriss thought, personally, that concern was _warranted_ around the point where someone threw a flaming torch into Lord Fisto’s face; but then Lord Fisto only laughed good-naturedly and threw a casual punch into the torch-thrower’s teeth, so perhaps he had it handled. There were a worrying number of axes, clubs, and rocks flying around the hall, however.

Her mother hummed absently and waved over a servant with a pitcher of wine and two goblets.

“Something to drink, my dear?” she asked as an entire table flew across the room.

“No thank you, I’m...yes,” Barriss said, changing her mind, and her mother smiled and handed her the second goblet of wine. The Queen took a sip, smiled, and set her goblet carefully on the arm of her throne. She didn’t even raise her voice as she finally turned back to the hall.

“Gentlemen,” she said mildly. “If you’re quite finished…”

* * *

The awful thing was, the games were  _fun._

Barriss enjoyed herself; she couldn’t help it. Her mother had arranged the event too perfectly. With readily available food and drink of every variety, the music, the laughter of seven clans and cheers of the spectators at the various events, it was impossible not to be caught up in the spirit of the whole thing. Even if Barriss wasn’t able to really enjoy the event as she had enjoyed festivals as a child—slipping away to run around the tents as she pleased—the atmosphere was light and exciting.

The competitions themselves, even with her formal appearances required, were easy to lose herself in. She might never be emotionally invested in weight throws, but she could admire the skills of everyone involved. She was much more interested in the archery, and was grateful to Lux of Clan Bonteri for deciding to compete in it so that she couldn’t be dragged away.

True, he’d only hit the target once, and that was because Anakin had gotten so fed up with him for spending too much time aiming that he’d yelled and startled Lux into loosing an inexplicably good shot, but still.

Even little Caleb had acquitted himself well, being eliminated in the second round of the archery but demonstrating excellent form for his age, and accepting his loss with far better grace than the older Nahdar had shown when he was outclassed in a weight-over-the-bar event.

There was also a melee competition, in which the Kenobi girl put in a remarkable performance. She’d competed in the archery as well, though Barriss could tell it wasn’t her preferred discipline; in the melee ring, twirling a dulled sword and a hunting knife in her off hand, Ahsoka’s stance was entirely different. Confident and a little bit cocky, with a crooked grin and a relaxed stance but without the arrogant swagger so many of the other competitors affected. She also had a very athletic build. Barriss was not so stressed that she didn't notice, thank you.

She was disqualified in the third round when she reflexively followed up a parry with a spinning kick to the throat; hand-to-hand combat was against the rules. Her sheepish apology as she helped her opponent to his feet was accepted with roaring good cheer and congratulations, and she’d been grinning as she left the ring to the enthusiastic praise of the nearby warriors.

The Clan Dooku candidate—Asajj, Barriss thought her name was—was significantly less scrupulous, but she also seemed to have a unique talent for not letting the referees see her cheat. And one couldn’t deny her skill.

Lord Kenobi had taken to stopping by the royal pavilion throughout the day; he’d been there to watch Ahsoka fight, at first. Later he'd stopped by to casually mention that his heir might start up an unofficial competition among those who had brought falcons, and Barriss ought to consider it an open invitation.

Barriss was in fact still a bit talon-shy even with her little merlin and never flew him unless explicitly told to by her mother, but she'd appreciated the friendly informality of the offer.

Now, Lord Kenobi leaned against the pole as they watched Asajj batter her opponent into submission. She was clearly toying with the man.

“She’s very good,” Barriss’ mother said neutrally.

Lord Kenobi hummed. “Quite.” He glanced up at Barriss. “Thinking about accepting her, hmm, princess?”

Barriss’ stomach twisted. “I intend to give every suitor fair and thorough consideration on their own merits,” she recited.

“She _is_ a bit old for Barriss,” the Queen observed with an impressively non-judgmental tone.

“Oh, indeed,” Lord Kenobi agreed with the exact same inflection. “There’s also the small matter of her being a complete psychopath.”

No one ever said an opinion had to be unbiased to be completely true.

But that had been earlier. And now, on the third day with sunset fast approaching and the games concluded, there was a feast being set out that would put all the others to shame—at the end of which Barriss was to announce her choice of suitor. There would be a wedding in six months.

The only problem was that Barriss hadn’t _chosen_ a suitor.

Oh, there was really only one logical choice. Two of the seven were a child and a sadist, two of the five remaining had traded their personalities for biceps, and she couldn’t stand Nahdar. The Bonteri boy was safe enough but useless, and Clan Kenobi had the best army and political connections as well as a suitor that Barriss at least hadn’t determined she couldn’t bear to be around in less than three days.

But she wasn’t...she _couldn’t._ She didn’t even know this girl. She could be wrong about her. She could be wrong about the others! And Barriss wasn’t...she…

Barriss was terrified.

She’d been standing frozen in a plain white shift for almost five minutes, nails digging into her dresser, breathing fast and shallow and losing her fight against the screaming panic threatening to eat her alive. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just change for supper and walk downstairs like everything was fine.

And what else exactly was she supposed to do? Tell the leaders of the seven clans, oh, sorry, it’s just that I don’t think I’m ready to be married yet, you came all this way for nothing because I don’t want any of you and it’s possible I never will, please get out of my house, no need to gift-wrap your immediate declarations of war.

It was too much, too fast, and she didn’t have any choice, but she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t go through with it.

* * *

Luminara raised an eyebrow as Gree opened her sitting-room door.

“Why yes,” she said drily. “I would be happy to receive visitors.”

Gree at least had the grace to pretend to look chastised. “Yes, ma’am. Lord Kenobi, ma’am.”

“You’re isolating yourself again,” Lord Kenobi observed as he let himself in.

She sighed, but couldn’t hold back a smile as the door was shut politely behind her old friend. Obi-Wan kissed her hand with all proper decorum, and then abandoned propriety in favor of grinning and spreading his arms for a hug.

“How you survive politics is beyond me,” Luminara remarked as she hugged him close, laughing softly at the tight squeeze she got in return. “If the lords declare war over preferential treatment, I hope you realize I intend to hold you responsible.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched as he crossed to a small table, pouring himself a drink. “I have Anakin entertaining them at the moment,” he said. “I highly doubt they’ll even realize I’m gone.” Luminara hummed in acknowledgement, and Obi-Wan hesitated as he turned back to her. “How is she, Luminara?”

She let out a long, heavy breath and motioned for him to pour a second drink. “I only wish I knew.” Seeing his surprise, she sat down and rested her head in her hands. “She clearly has reservations, as anyone in her position would, but I don’t know. I don’t _know._ She seems to be handling it well enough.”

Obi-Wan handed her a drink and sat down across from her. “It can be a difficult responsibility to accept.”

Luminara gave a mirthless laugh. “Not for Barriss. I have no concerns about her accepting the _responsibility;_ I only wish she would talk to me. I worry about her. If it can’t be a love match I would like her to at least be _happy_ with her partner.”

A quiet nod from Obi-Wan. “I know the feeling.”

Luminara smiled. “Ahsoka could be good for her, I think.”

Obi-Wan silently toasted the sentiment. “I hope I don’t overstep in saying she’s a very likely candidate. I only hope that ends up being a good thing. For them both.”

Luminara shook her head silently, staring into her cup and unable to shake her sense of wrongness.

“I wish I knew what she was thinking,” she said finally. “She must have concerns, but she’s never mentioned any. I don’t know what to do at this point.”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. “You might consider speaking with her,” he said wryly. Luminara sent him a filthy look, and he rolled his eyes. “What? I’m being serious.”

“I _speak_ to her,” Luminara insisted. “The problem is that I can’t convince her to speak back!”

Her friend laughed softly at that. “Oh, to have that problem.” Seeing that Luminara was still decidedly unimpressed, he shook his head and leaned forward. His voice was gentler as he continued, “What is she meant to say, Lady Unduli? No matter how much advice she might ask for, this is something she ultimately has to do alone. Is it such a surprise that she might need space?”

“It’s not even that.” Luminara swallowed hard. “I don’t even know how she feels about all of this. It’s really not fair to ask it of her. I wouldn’t if I had any choice. She _has_ to be feeling something other than...calm acceptance! I don’t know if she’s angry with me for forcing her into this situation—”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Or happy,” Luminara insisted. “She could be looking forward to the opportunity and I wouldn’t know. I don’t know if she’s frustrated or confused, or if she feels trapped or rushed, or...afraid.”

A warm hand on her knee made her look up.

“I think you need to give her credit,” Obi-Wan said kindly. “She’s likely feeling all those things, but she’s also remarkably sensible, to no one’s surprise.”

“I’m not certain that was a compliment, Lord Kenobi,” Luminara said with a hint of a smirk.

“A marriage, even a political marriage, is hardly the end of the world,” he pointed out. “I’m certain that Barriss will be able to manage.” He smiled fondly at her. “We could have been married once, you know.”

“Well, there goes the kingdom,” she deadpanned. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes again and stood.

“I don’t need to stand here and listen to that,” he told her, feigning offense very badly.

“Yes you do,” Luminara shot back. “You swore an oath of fealty.”

That got a proper laugh. “You may consider this my great rebellion,” he informed her, bowing deeply as he opened the door again. “Do come and join us soon, my lady. I know how you worry.”

“Slander and treason,” she muttered under her breath. Obi-Wan’s laughter rang in the hallway as she sighed once more and brushed herself down. If she knew Barriss, her daughter was more than ready by now. Perhaps it would be best to just get this over with. Barriss was resourceful and resilient. Luminara smiled to herself. It would be just like her to fret herself sick over her daughter’s mental state while Barriss was perfectly fine.

Luminara had been nervous about betrothal herself, after all. She was probably overthinking this.

* * *

Barriss couldn’t think anymore.

Her whole life, she had dedicated herself with single-minded focus to becoming the perfect queen, but she had reached her limit. Duty alone was no longer enough to keep her here. She was past the point where rational thought would change anything.

She couldn’t—she didn’t—she had to get out of here.

She’d swept a dark cloak around her shoulders with trembling fingers before she was even aware of moving, and she never did figure out exactly what route she’d taken from her room. All she knew was that she was running on shaky legs as far from the great hall as she could get.

The cold night air as she stumbled through an exterior door shocked some of her mindless terror away. Barriss shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around herself, then started running again. This time she had a destination in mind, and she’d already blindly thrown a saddle over her little fell pony before she realized she wasn’t alone.

“...Hi,” said Ahsoka.

Barriss, frozen in the unmistakable act of saddling her mount, forced a smile. “Hello,” she squeaked. “I...I was, just…”

Her voice trailed off into the impossible task of coming up with any excuse that might sound even partially reasonable, but then her mind started half-working again. Ahsoka was alone in the stables, in the dark, sitting on an upturned bucket against a stall door. And her eyes were bloodshot.

Had she been _crying…?_

Ahsoka looked as terrified to see Barriss as Barriss was to see her; but as they stared at each other, unexpectedly, the other girl suddenly broke into an earsplitting smile of sheer, overwhelming relief.

“Oh, thank _god,”_ Ahsoka said. “I’m not ready either.”

A knot unraveled in Barriss’ stomach.

“Really?” she asked weakly.

Ahsoka dropped her head into her hands, laughing. Or having hysterics, one of the two.

“I’m really, really not,” she said, then looked up in sudden alarm. “Uh, I mean—I’m not assuming you’d pick me or anything, just, I had a one in seven shot and I was kinda...freaking out?”

“One in six,” Barriss corrected automatically. “There was never any chance that I would pick—”

“Asajj,” Ahsoka agreed.

“Caleb,” Barriss said at the same time.

“One in five,” they decided in unison, and Barriss almost smiled.

“It’s nothing personal,” she managed, forcing the words out as she tightened her grip on her saddle. “I just…”

“No, yeah, I get it,” Ahsoka said quickly. “It’s not you. You seem great, like, you’re smart and sweet and gorgeous, there shouldn’t be a problem, it’s just, I don’t think I could...with _anybody,_ not yet.”

“Exactly,” Barriss breathed. They looked at each other for a long moment. Barriss’ whole body was trembling with the need to keep running, but she was so unaccustomed to seeing Clan Kenobi’s young heir without her blue-and-white shadow that she had to ask. Ahsoka just seemed so alone without a falcon at her right hand. “Where’s Rex?”

Ahsoka sat up straighter. “Sleeping,” she said, and her voice only shook a little. “I mean, I’d love to have him with me all the time, but he’s a hawk, you know? If what I want isn’t what’s best for Rex, I don’t get what I want. No argument. I have to look out for him.”

Something echoed between them, two lifetimes of duty resonating like a plucked harpstring.

Ahsoka broke the silence first.

“Don’t take her,” she said.

Barriss blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Ahsoka pointed to the black mare Barriss was still halfway through saddling. “Don’t take her, she’s been having trouble with her near fore hoof the last few days. A groom mentioned it when we got here. It’s dark out there, you need a horse you can trust.”

She jumped to her feet and ducked out of sight, reappearing a moment later with a plainer saddle that she slung over the back of the unfamiliar highland pony whose stall she had been hiding against. In a matter of seconds, she’d slipped a bridle over its head and nudged it out of the stall.

“Take Fulcrum,” she said, and Barriss’ eyebrows raised at the offer. Ahsoka fidgeted. “He’s smart and sound and he doesn’t startle easily. He’s a lot safer. I mean, he’s a stallion, so he’s kind of an asshole, but...uh, I mean.” Her eyes were wide. “I meant to say, he can be headstrong—”

Barriss took the reins from her, lips twitching. “You meant to say he’s kind of an asshole,” she corrected her, and Ahsoka blushed. “I...thank you.”

Someone shouted from the castle, and Barriss’ throat closed in a panic.

Ahsoka dropped her grip on her little dun and stepped clear as Barriss pulled herself onto his back.

“Go,” Ahsoka said. “Do what you need to do.”

Barriss hesitated. “You’ll make my excuses?”

“Are you kidding?” Ahsoka snorted. “I haven’t seen you and I don’t know when you left. Your mom has a dungeon.”

Barriss rolled her eyes, pulled Fulcrum around, and sent him into a clattering gallop out the main gates.

It was darker than she’d realized, the shadows deeper, and she was grateful that she was riding a mount slightly less sheltered than her own. Her pony was a lady’s pleasure mount; Kenobi had given its heir a hunter, and he was more confident than Barriss in the dark. He plunged through the trees without pause, leaping easily over uneven ground and downed trees she hadn’t even seen, and all she had to do was hang on.

She couldn’t tell where they were going, but at the moment she didn’t care. She didn’t mind the cold or the damp or the twigs whipping across her face; she _needed_ them. Every thundering hoofbeat, every branch that hit her, was taking her away from everything she’d thought she was ready to face. She wanted to just let Fulcrum run and run until he stopped...

Fulcrum stopped.

There was no warning; one moment he’d been leaping through the trees like a hound on a scent, the next there was a terrible equine scream as he planted his feet and skidded to a halt. No one could have shifted their weight in time; Barriss went flying over his neck and rolled hard, narrowly avoiding cracking her head open on an oak root.

Groaning faintly and clutching her head, she staggered to her feet. _Doesn’t spook easily, my…_

She frowned. Either she’d landed harder than she thought, or there was lamplight spilling out onto the clearing she’d toppled into.

A low snort from behind her. Fulcrum hadn’t bolted, then; but he wouldn’t come to her when she clucked her tongue, and outright dug in his heels when she tried to lead him forward. He simply refused to move past the treeline.

“All right,” she told him irritably. “If you insist.”

She was curious, though. Hoping the pony would still be there when she returned, Barriss crept up to the unexpected cottage. She was certain no one was supposed to live here…

It was late, but the door was open. Barriss stuck her head inside.

“Hello?” she called.

She seemed to have stumbled across a workroom of some sort. Tables in the middle of the cottage overflowed with carvings and candlesticks and toys; statues of wolves, a wolf with wheels on a pull-string, delicate mobiles of a wolf family frolicking in circles. Intricate and beautiful four-legged marionette wolves hung from the ceilings. The walls were covered in clocks carved with gorgeous forest scenes, and stylized wolves held up tables or crouched over the backs of chairs.

In the back of the cottage, next to a fireplace that seemed ill-advised in a woodcarver’s shop, a dark-haired man in a black bonnet relaxed on a couch, whittling another wolf.

“Oh hey,” he said as he looked up and saw Barriss hesitating in the doorway. “Let me know if something catches your eye, I'll tell you more about it.”

“Right…” She looked around. “You...like wolves, I see?”

“Wolves are cool,” said the man. “See anything you like? There’s a really well-made chessboard that we’re really excited about.”

“Maybe...some other time…” Barriss ducked under the outstretched paw of a wolf statue. “What are you working on?” she asked for politeness’ sake.

The man held it up. “Well,” he said. “When it’s done, the plan is for this to be—”

“Spoilers,” his hat interrupted.

Barriss blinked.

The woodcarver’s bonnet had absolutely just talked.

She swallowed. “Did your hat just…”

“Staring is rude,” the hat snapped.

“You can talk,” she told it.

“So can you, I’m not over here making a big deal about it!”

“Quiet,” said the woodcarver. “You’re the reason I don’t enchant things anymore, you know.”

Barriss’ breath caught.

“You’re a wizard,” she realized.

“Uh,” said the man. “Well, uh, actually, I’m a witch, you know, it’s a gender-neutral term…”

“You can cast spells,” Barriss pressed.

The witch gave a nervous laugh. “Well,” he said. “Thing is I kinda just do wolves…”

Barriss gripped his arm. “I need your help. I—I can pay you, I’m the Princess Unduli, I need—”

The man was anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, it’s not, uh, it’s not really about money…”

“I like money,” offered the hat.

“I need a spell,” Barriss told the witch. “Please. _Please._ I need your help. You’re my only hope, I need a spell that will...somehow make it so that I don’t have to get married.”

It was stupid and irresponsible, she knew better than to mess around with magic. But she felt _hunted._ She would grasp at any straw right now.

“...That’s all?” asked the witch. “I mean, okay.”

* * *

She’d slipped in through a servant’s entrance after handing off her borrowed pony to a groom. The empty stairwell she was hiding in was dark and empty, but she could hear the clamor of voices and tableware, singing, banging against tables and the floor. The general uproar of a celebration in full swing.

Barriss had a decision to make.

She stared at the open bundle resting on her knees. It looked so innocent. It would be so easy…

Magic always had consequences. It always had a price. Just, right now, Barriss would pay any price quoted her if it meant she didn’t have to…

She had just picked up the deceptively ordinary-looking cake when a door opened at the bottom of the stairs.

 _“Barriss,”_ her mother breathed. “Thank goodness. You worried me.”

Barriss had nearly jumped through the ceiling at the Queen’s sudden appearance, but she swallowed and ducked her head. “I’m sorry, mother.”

The Queen shook her head, relief clear on her face even in the dim light from the open door. “What were you thinking?” she demanded. Her voice was worried, not angry, but Barriss still winced. “Leaving without a word in the middle of the night, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going, I had no way of knowing if you were even coming back—to say nothing of the insult to the lords, if they had found out!”

Barriss mumbled another apology, crossing her arms tightly across her stomach, and her mother paused and sighed.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked gently.

“I’m fine, mother.”

The Queen dipped her head. “I understand feeling overwhelmed,” she said. “I promise, Barriss, it will get easier once you make your announcement.”

Barriss nodded blindly. Her instincts screamed at her to take a bite of the enchanted cake; but the whole thing seemed so foolish and juvenile now. There was no wishing this away. And magic was tricky. For all she knew, this spell would change things so that she didn’t have to get married by dissolving clan alliances, starting a war...it occurred to her now that dead women didn’t have to marry, either. She was stupid for even considering it. She was just going to have to…

Her mother crouched down in front of her.

“Would you like to finish that before we go back upstairs?” she asked with an encouraging smile, indicating the cake. “I don’t think a few more minutes will make much difference.”

Barriss stared at her last hope of escape for a long moment.

“No,” she said dully. “I’m not going to eat it.”

If her mother was concerned by her sudden despairing tone, she didn’t show it. The Queen smiled, squeezed Barriss’ shoulder, and—

And before Barriss could react, plucked the little cake from her knees and took a bite, offering her a cheerful wink.

“Mustn’t let it go to waste, then,” she said. Barriss’ eyes were wide with horror, but in the dark her mother didn’t seem to have noticed. She did hesitate, but it was only to gag slightly. “Mmm. That is...unusual, what…? I can’t tell...”

“It must be a new recipe,” Barriss said weakly.

Her mother gave a visible shudder as she forced the mouthful down. “Quite,” she agreed, looking nauseous. “Well. Not every venture can be successful, I suppose. I believe we may have just discovered why that little delicacy was down in the kitchens to be stolen, haven’t we, Barriss?”

“Yes,” she squeaked. For a moment everything seemed fine, and Barriss’ tension began to dissipate; of course nothing had happened, her mother wasn’t being forced to marry anyway. The spell shouldn’t have any effect.

Then the Queen swayed, lurching forward and reaching for the wall in an unsuccessful attempt to catch herself. Barriss shot to her feet just in time to grip her mother’s arm and steady her.

“I’m fine,” the Queen said shakily, waving off Barriss’ panicked concern. “I’m...feeling dizzy, suddenly. If you could help me sit down for a moment…”

Barriss hurried to help her mother sit on the steps, heart pounding. If that spell was dangerous, or—or incompatible, or if the witch had lied, if anything happened it was her fault—

Her mother smiled; it was unsteady, but that hint of good humor was reassuring.

“What on _Earth_ was in that cake?” her mother asked, and this time Barriss couldn’t hide her reaction. The Queen faltered, frowning slightly as she leaned forward. “Barriss?”

Barriss forced herself to smile, anxiously brushing a strand of dark hair behind the Queen’s ear the way her mother always did for her. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

The Queen held Barriss in a piercing look for a long moment before nodding and leaning on her again, pulling herself to her feet.

“Very well,” she said. “Shall we, then—”

This time she collapsed too suddenly for Barriss to catch her.

Somehow as her mother fell, Barriss’ belated attempt to catch her only managed to throw the Queen’s cloak over her head. Cursing herself under her breath, she dropped to her knees and tried to untangle the fabric, to no avail. There was a long series of tearing sounds that made Barriss cringe as they fought the dress together, until finally she reached out and was able to finally untangle the cloak and pull it free.

Barriss’ sudden shriek echoed off the stone.

In the enclosed space, the wolf felt like a fairytale monster. Eyes burning green in the dark against nightmare-black fur, its massive paws spread out on the stairs as it wavered, still tangled in her mother’s clothes and trying to find its balance. Its scruff was thick, almost leonine, with faint sable silvering. And it was _huge._ Barriss knew that wolves were big, intellectually; but that was very different from having a lean, sleek predator nearly three feet tall at the shoulder crouched close enough to touch.

The wolf shook itself violently, then looked down.

All of a sudden it went very still.

Very slowly, it lifted one paw, staring at it intensely. Then it lowered the paw, took a deep breath, and turned to Barriss.

“Oof?” it asked, and its eyes widened.

Pressing back against the wall just in case her intuition was wrong, Barriss said, “...Mother?”

The wolf hesitated before inclining its head, and Barriss covered her mouth with trembling hands.

“Oh, _no,”_ she managed. “I’m so...this is all my fault.”

Wolves didn’t have eyebrows, per se, but this one still managed to raise hers.

Barriss ran her fingers through her hair, mentally kicking herself. Stupid, stupid, unforgivably stupid, to make such a vaguely-worded wish. “I’ll fix this,” she promised. “I will, I promise. There has to be a way to undo…” Her mind spun wildly between ideas, and some part of her felt off-balance.

She had to fight down a hysterical laugh when she realized she was subconsciously waiting for her mother to place a hand on her shoulder and calm her down with instructions.

“We’ll go back,” she said, trying to ignore the wild note in her own voice. “If he can cast the spell he has to be able to reverse it, doesn’t he? We can ask him to—”

The door opened again.

“Luminara,” Lord Kenobi’s voice called up the stairs as he stepped through, holding a torch. “Is everything all...”

His eyes blew wide as he saw the wolf standing over Barriss, and drew his sword with a flourish. The wolf flinched, and something made Lord Kenobi pause. He frowned.

“Princess…” he said slowly.

Barriss, throat worked as she tried to find an explanation that made sense. After a moment, she gave up.

“I may have turned my mother into a wolf,” she said weakly. “There was a witch…”

Lord Kenobi held up a hand. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“It was an accident.” Her voice came out even smaller that time. Lord Kenobi just raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with the Queen. Barriss’ mother looked at Barriss and back and gave a low whine.

Lord Kenobi’s eyes softened as he sheathed his sword again. “I’m quite certain you’ll be fine,” he said. “Your Highness, could you find this...witch again?”

“Yes,” Barriss said immediately. “At least I think I can…” She hadn’t really been paying attention, she’d just been letting Fulcrum choose their path. But she’d been able to find her way to the castle just fine, so retracing her steps shouldn’t be too difficult.

The wolf nudged Barriss shoulder encouragingly. Barriss reached up and gripped her thick scruff like it was a pony’s mane, before remembering and hastily standing up.

“I should.” She swallowed. There were too many things at once—but this was what a queen did. “The clans will be impatient…”

Lord Kenobi nodded thoughtfully, stroking his red beard. “You have a point,” he admitted. “They will start wondering at your absence if you stay away much longer. On the other hand, once you’ve made your announcement the lucky clan leader will want to speak with the Queen immediately.”

They both looked at the Queen, who gave a weary lupine sigh.

“We can hurry?” Barriss suggested. As plans went, it wasn’t her finest, but Lord Kenobi seemed to accept it.

“Between myself, Anakin, and Asajj, I’m certain I can keep them distracted for some time,” he said drily. “All the same, do try to get back soon. I can only promise distraction, not an intact castle when you return.”

He seemed to be highly amused by the suggestion. The Queen folded her ears and glared at him, and Barriss just made a pathetic attempt at smiling as she stepped around Kenobi.

“Thank you, my lord,” she remembered to say, and then a black wolf trotted past her and out into the night, and she swallowed and ran after her mother.

* * *

“Oh, geez,” said the witch.

“Please undo it,” said Barriss.

She’d decided during her half-jog through the forest trying desperately to locate this little cottage again that she really didn’t have any right to be angry with him. It was her own fault for using such vague wording. Turning her into a wolf would, after all, have fulfilled the terms of their agreement.

The witch winced. “So, uh,” he hedged. “This is your…”

“My mother.” Barriss bit down on her panic. “I don’t mean to be rude, but time is of the essence. There has to be a way to remove the spell.”

The witch made another face and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Yeah,” he said. “So, thing is, about that…”

Barriss’ stomach clenched. “You can undo it, can’t you?”

“Well,” he said. “It can be undone, so that’s the good news.”

 _"Whuff,"_ the Queen said irritably.

“Um.” The witch spread his hands. “Thing is, I can’t do it. It’s your spell.”

“What?” Barriss demanded, looking from the witch to her mother, who managed to look offended. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” she assured the wolf. Turning back to the witch, she continued, “You’re the one who cast it!”

“Yeah…” He at least had the grace to look apologetic. “But it’s kind of bound to you, you know? It was your problem and your decision. So, uh. You have to break it. If you can figure out what was causing the problem and get rid of it, the magic won’t be necessary anymore, and the spell should break.”

Barriss’ mother gave an indignant whining yelp that sounded very much like “Should?!”

“Yup.” The witch hadn’t invited them inside, and Barriss began to suspect why as he backed across the threshold and ever-so casually closed the bottom half of his shop door. “So, good luck with that. It was great meeting you.”

The top half of the door closed and latched.

Barriss looked back at the wolf at her side in a panic. “Wait,” she said, turning to the door. “How do I—”

She blinked. The cottage was gone like it had never been there. There was nothing in front of her but empty forest.

Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes. It was stupid, they didn’t have time for this, she had to think clearly and come up with a plan. A princess couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

A roar rose up from the crowd as Anakin’s latest half-drunken battlefield reenactment drew to a close, but it was barely half as enthusiastic as when he’d first started a few hours ago.

Ahsoka groped blindly for her tankard, only to have it intercepted by Obi-Wan with a stern look and a cup of water. She stuck her tongue out at him and slumped on her bench with ill grace.

The Bonteri kid slid into place next to her with no warning, accompanied by a few of his clanmates. Ahsoka jumped slightly at his sudden appearance, but smiled and waved in greeting.

“Hey, Lux.”

He toasted her, and she held up her water with a wry grin. Lux laughed and gestured for one of his people to give Ahsoka their tankard, looking faintly surprised when she turned him down. Then he nodded and set his own aside.

“You’re probably right,” he said. “Better to keep our heads just in case.” He gave her what she was sure he thought was a charmingly rakish grin. “Can you blame me for wanting to share a drink with a beautiful girl?”

“You might be at your own betrothal party,” Ahsoka pointed out. Lux gave a good-natured shrug.

“I’m a free man for a few more minutes, aren’t I?” At Ahsoka’s offended look, he shook his head. “I’m only _joking,_ Ahsoka. Come now, you know me better than that.”

Ahsoka reached out and snagged his drink. “I know you’re too pretty for your own good,” she retorted.

“Pretty like that stud Obi-Wan bought a few years ago,” Anakin tossed out as he threw himself down on Ahsoka’s other side. “Most beautiful stallion on the planet and enough brains to make an acorn look like a philosopher.”

Ahsoka stomped on his foot. Luckily Lux just laughed.

“My lady,” she heard Obi-Wan say politely, and then a smirk made flesh, clad in Clan Dooku’s black-on-red, poured itself onto the bench across from Ahsoka.

“Are we all catching up?” she asked with an extremely overdone attempt at innocence.

Lux, who was either an incredible politician or actually that clueless, responded as if Asajj was completely welcome. He passed her a drink and leaned forward in a friendly way, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I was just about to ask Ahsoka if she knew what’s causing the delay,” he said. “I would have expected the princess to at least have shown up by now.”

Ahsoka was probably the only person in the castle who knew exactly what was causing the delay, but she didn’t think Obi-Wan would approve of her sneaking Unduli’s only heir out of the castle in the middle of the night. And even if he did, probably the other clans would be less understanding. She laughed nervously and mumbled something about being sure there was a reason before determinedly starting to chug her water.

Asajj just stretched, leaning back and resting her elbows on the table as the people around her miraculously melted away to give her room. “Getting nervous about your chances, Bonteri?” she drawled.

Lux gestured around to include the three of them and Nahdar, who had just come over when he saw them all talking. “I’m sure everyone is,” he said.

Nahdar scoffed. “Maybe some of us.”

“You’re _confident,”_ Asajj observed scornfully.

Nahdar flashed a cocky grin and leaned back. _"I_ know how to handle a wedding night."

Asajj gave a dark, taunting chuckle.

"Boy," she said, "I've forgotten more about _wedding nights_ than you'll ever know."

Ever diplomatic, Lux held up his hands. “We all have the same chance,” he pointed out. “It’s really just down to the princess’ decision, isn’t it?”

“I think she’s gonna pick Ahsoka,” said Caleb, who had popped up at Lux’s side without warning. Lux jumped practically into Ahsoka’s lap; Clan Windu’s young heir didn’t seem to notice, eagerly sitting forward. “She smiled at her during the presentation.”

Lux grinned. “He’s right,” he told Ahsoka, casually ruffling Caleb’s hair as he leaned over and grabbed a bread roll. “She has seemed fairly partial to you.”

Nahdar muttered something under his breath. Ahsoka shot him a look, but let it go.

Asajj, meanwhile, mostly looked amused.

“I’m sure,” she said. _“That_ I would like to see.”

Unfortunately Anakin was still sober enough to follow the conversation. “You got a problem with Ahsoka?” he demanded.

Asajj spared him a pouty, pitying look. “Now, did I say that, _Skywalker?”_

Lux looked a bit surprised at her attitude. Ahsoka’s personal theory that he was actually seven puppies in a kilt was gaining credibility by the day.

“I think Ahsoka has a very good chance,” he said. “Certainly she’d make a wonderful partner. She’s honorable, gentle, a skilled warrior. She’ll be a fine leader someday.”

“Are you proposing?” Ahsoka asked him flatly. “Because if you are, I’m gonna hit you.” Lux flushed and elbowed her in the ribs, and she rolled her eyes at him.

Nahdar almost looked like he was thinking about relaxing. That would be the day; Ahsoka still didn’t understand how such a tightass could be Lord Kit’s heir. Still, he took a sip of wine and commenting with a grin, “Well, she has a better chance than _you,_ Bonteri.”

One of Lux’s clanmates stood, putting a hand on his club. “What’s that supposed to mean, Fisto?”

Nahdar gave a showy shrug. “Nothing,” he said. “I just assume the princess wants a consort who can actually, you know. Do something.”

Exhibiting reflexes Ahsoka didn’t know he had, Lux jumped up to put a restraining hand on his man’s shoulder before he could brain Clan Fisto's heir.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, Saw,” he said. “Really! It’s fine. Just a little...affectionate teasing between allies.”

Muttering uncharitably, Saw settled back into his seat. Asajj watched the group like they were a mildly amusing stage play, sipping Nahdar’s wine before setting it aside.

“Of course,” she drawled. “It sounds nice to say the princess will choose Kenobi, but come now. Let’s all be realistic, shall we?” When the rest of the group frowned in confusion, Asajj gave a slow, self-satisfied smile. “The Queen’s only child,” she said. “Settling for second in line? It’s just not going to happen, when the other clans are offering their firstborn. She’s not even part of Kenobi’s bloodline.”

Asajj knew how to make her voice carry. There was a hush over their section of the great hall, and a long, hissing intake of breath.

And then Anakin gave a war cry and pulled out his sword, and the seven clans exploded.

* * *

Barriss’ fingers tightened in the wolf’s thick fur.

She’d thought about it, turned the witch’s words over and over in her mind, and she knew what she had to do. She’d always known. She just...needed a moment to steel herself.

“All right,” she said out loud. Her mother, curled up at her side, lifted her head and whined softly. Barriss forced herself to smile. “I know...what needs to be done, mother.” She swallowed. “If what he said is true, the spell should break when I agree to marry. We’ll return to the castle and I’ll announce a decision. That should…”

Her voice threatened to crack. She took a deep breath.

“That should fix everything,” she said. “That’s what started this nonsense in the first place.”

Her mother tilted her head in confusion, and Barriss felt a surge of sick guilt as she realized she’d never actually confessed her own role in the curse.

“I was afraid,” she said. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I...I was scared and weak and I asked for magic that would make things so I wouldn’t have to marry. I just have to get over that.”

She started to push herself to her feet, only for a massive paw on her shoulder to push her back down.

She frowned. “Mother?”

The wolf flicked her ears back and sat facing Barriss, staring at her in a way that was somehow very familiar.

 _Barriss,_ she could almost hear her mother saying. _The_ whole _story, please._

But that was the whole story. What more was there to say?

“That was the problem,” she tried to explain. “Like he said. The underlying problem has to be that I was trying to run away from my responsibilities. If I go back, that will...I can fix this, I _can,_ it was _my_ moment of weakness that caused all of this, if I just…”

She didn’t realize she’d started crying until the wolf leaned in and licked her cheek.

Barriss never would have done it. But while she’d always been a bit overwhelmed by the loud, hyperactive hunting dogs they kept in the kennels she had always found the non-judgemental presence of quiet, solid animals a balm. She’d made friends with the castle cats since she was a girl for that exact reason, and her body responded to the warm fur and concern as if it were offered by a shepherd dog instead of the Queen. She gripped the wolf’s mane tight and broke down sobbing into its fur.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m sorry, I—I tried, I did, I swear, but...I panicked, I was scared. I was—I was so _scared_. I’m not—I’m not—I wasn’t _ready,_ I know my duty but I’m not ready. I just...”

She struggled to even breathe through the sudden storm, but she couldn’t have stopped the words from tumbling out of her if she tried. Not now that the dam had broken.

“And I know no one ever really is, and I didn’t want to worry you when it was always going to happen anyway but—everything felt so sudden and I need time, I need more _time_ than this, I’m a stranger to these people, and—I wasn’t going to go through with the spell, I know it was irresponsible, I just...I’m _sorry_...”

“Shh.” Her mother’s voice was soft and so familiar, so expected, that for a long moment it never occurred to Barriss to be surprised by it. “Shh, it’s all right. You’ll be all right. I’m here.”

“I know,” she mumbled, and then her brain finally caught up with her. Her eyes flew wide and she tried to pull back; her mother let her, but only so far. Her fingers brushed loose strands of hair away from Barriss’ face.

“You should have told me,” she said quietly.

Barriss swallowed, frantically wiping her face.

“The arrangements were already made,” she muttered. Then, “How—I don’t understand.”

Her mother’s lips twitched, though her expression was still soft.

“I think,” she said, “you may have just discovered the true underlying problem we’ve been experiencing.”

* * *

Ahsoka was barricaded under a table stabbing unsuspecting Windu warriors in the shins when the doors to the main hall opened. She couldn’t see what was going on, but everyone seemed to get quiet awfully fast.

“Finally,” she heard Asajj drawl from across the room. Keeping a wary eye on the nearby ankles, Ahsoka clawed her way out from under the table.

She wasn’t surprised to see the Queen and her daughter stepping up onto the dais at the head of the hall. She was a little surprised by the rough black dress the Queen was wrapped in; far from her usual elegant dresses, she looked almost like she was wearing a massive wolfskin.

The Lady Unduli made it look good, of course, it was just a little jarring. Also a surprise: the princess, for the first time Ahsoka had seen, didn't look like she was in pain. She stepped forward, and the few scuffles that had persisted went quiet as the clans waited for her.

The princess took a deep breath and folded her hands behind her back.

“My lords,” she said. “I thank you for your patience, and for this opportunity to meet your heirs. I look forward to the opportunity to get to know them better in the future, so that someday I will be able to make an honest offer to one of the seven clans.”

A confused murmur swept around the hall as her meaning sank in.

“What’s she talking about?” Anakin said under his breath.

“Shut up,” Ahsoka hissed.

The Lord Dooku was less hesitant.

“My lady,” he said, speaking directly to the Queen as he stepped forward. “May I ask the meaning of this? Certain expectations were raised among the clans. To throw that in our faces is a dire insult. Surely you must see reason.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, and the princess was the one who answered him.

“My lord Tyrannus,” she said. Her voice was regal but not quite commanding; earnest and sure, and Ahsoka was impressed. She thought Tyrannus must be in spite of himself, because he didn’t interrupt her. “Your clan in living memory led a violent civil war against its former king. You yourself said that he was so bound by political concern that he had lost sight of courage and honor, even of good sense.”

A few of the black-and-red figures behind Tyrannus shifted as her words struck a chord. The clan chief himself raised an eyebrow and nodded silently to let her continue.

“You laid down your lives to free yourselves from such leadership. Would you follow another who chained themselves with tradition and expectations against their better judgement?” The princess let that question ring for a moment before turning across the room. “And my lady Bonteri. You supported Dooku in that war because you believed every clan has the right to choose its liegelord. And yet a word from me would bind your heir for life, without his will playing any role. I do not believe you truly condone that—not when your clan fought so bravely in defense of the right to self-determination.”

Ahsoka glanced around the room. Quite a few clans still looked mutinous, but they were starting to sway to her side all the same.

“Lord...Kit,” she announced next, and the head of Clan Fisto chuckled audibly. “Your clan is more coastal than many. You have a closer relationship with the sea than anyone in this room, and it has been common wisdom for five hundred years that your bodies might be chained but your spirits can never be enslaved. It would be obscene to rob your heir of his freedom—and I refuse to believe a Fisto would ever stoop so low as to knowingly rob me of mine.”

Nahdar blinked at that, and shifted at his father’s side. He looked at the princess like he’d never seen her before, and this time when he gave a little half-grin in her direction it had none of the sharp, bitter edge Ahsoka was used to seeing.

“Clan Kenobi, you almost need no explanation,” the princess continued. “You have always been the foremost proponents of living by one’s conscience and basing families on true bonds of love. I know you understand my decision. You would think less of me if I made any other. And my lady Windu…your son is twelve.”

There was a chorus of muted laughter from the knot of purple and bronze in the center of the room. Lady Depa, who laughed more readily than anyone in her clan, waved off the explanation with a smile.

The princess seemed bolstered by the changed atmosphere. “Political alliances form best between clans who can trust one another’s character,” she said. Her voice was still even, almost quiet; but stronger, now. “I have never had anything but faith in the souls of the seven clans I see here. And I could not hope to someday lead those clans if I were cruel enough to lie to their future heads now and promise them something I may not be able to give. It would destroy the trust we have built.”

Tyrannus cleared his throat.

“That being said…” he began, but Nahdar interrupted him.

“Hear, hear,” he called. He was still an aggressive, overconfident jerk, but for once he was throwing that swagger behind someone else. “I thought no one was ever going to say it.”

“There’s no reason anyone should be forced into this,” Lux pointed out reasonably. “There’s certainly no hurry, and no reason everyone involved shouldn’t have the right to choose freely.” Asajj indulged in some slow, mocking applause, but didn’t argue the point.

Caleb piped up from beside his mother, “It’s not like the alliance is about to collapse or anything. Didn’t all the clans agree to be friends for good reasons in the first place?”

Obi-Wan laughed softly. “Out of the mouths of babes,” he said, quietly enough that Ahsoka didn’t think most of the others heard him. She didn’t say anything; the swell of conversation and agreement across the clans spoke for her just fine.

* * *

“He’s gonna bite you, Snips.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes as she continued checking Fulcrum’s tack. Rex was perched on the fence surrounding the stables, which he hadn’t been happy about when Ahsoka had to open it to get in and out.

“I _put_ him on the saddle,” she retorted. “It’s his own fault if he insists on coming over here. Ow,” she added as she reached over to close the gate again and Rex bit her fingers. “That was rude.”

“Told you,” said Anakin. Ahsoka ignored him, pulled on the falconry glove she really should never have taken off, and pulled herself onto Fulcrum’s back before whistling for Rex. The gyrfalcon leapt to her hand almost without flapping his wings, fluffing his feathers in a highly offended manner. Ahsoka shook her head.

Soft laughter drew her attention, and she coughed when she realized she’d been so focused on her bird she’d almost forgotten the princess was being kind enough to hold Fulcrum for her.

“Thanks,” Ahsoka told her. “Rex is just...being a bird.”

“It _is_ what he’s best at,” Barriss said seriously, before the facade broke and she smiled again. She glanced at the rest of their party; a few of the pack horses were still being looked over, but they were about ready to leave. They were the last, but not by much; Clan Fisto had only taken to their boats a few hours ago. Barriss had seen Nahdar off as well.

To her surprise, Ahsoka was a little jealous of that. Not a lot. But a little.

“I really do look forward to seeing you again,” Barriss told her. She didn’t need to hold Fulcrum’s reins anymore, but she didn’t look like letting go of them yet. “I feel like we’ve barely spoken.”

Ahsoka gave her a sheepish grin. “That’s probably because we’ve barely spoken.”

Barriss rubbed her face to hide a laugh that was nearly a groan. “For an event supposedly designed to introduce us, there _were_ awfully few opportunities to actually get to know one another.”

“It’s not a great system,” Ahsoka agreed. She glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was talking to Anakin about something. “Maybe we can...I don’t know. I’m sure we can come up with an excuse to get you out for a visit sometime. Maybe Midsummer?”

Barriss laughed and blushed at the same time. “Ahsoka! Midsummer is in just a few months.”

“What?” Ahsoka couldn’t help grinning. “It’s just an idea.”

“I’ll think about it.” Barriss’ tone was reproachful, but she was smiling and her eyes sparkled with laughter.

There was a friendly whistle from the train. “Ahsoka!” Anakin called. “You ready to go?”

Barriss bit her lip and dropped Fulcrum’s reins, but Ahsoka didn’t pull the little stallion around yet.

“I, um,” she said. “It was good meeting you.”

“Yes.” Barriss cleared her throat. “I mean—yes, quite. Meeting you, I mean. Ahsoka, you should know. Before my mother encouraged me not to make a decision just yet...you must have realized it would have been—”

“Don’t,” Ahsoka said immediately. “It’ll sound like a promise. Don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

There was a pause, and then Barriss visibly relaxed, smiling up at her without any of the shyness.

“We’ll talk at Midsummer,” she promised, and stepped away from Fulcrum to give him room to turn.

“You sure?” Ahsoka couldn’t resist asking. “I mean, it’s only two months from now—”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but Barriss rolling her eyes and slapping Fulcrum’s rump to send him skittering across the courtyard and into place wasn’t it.

Obi-Wan signalled the horn-blower to sound a gallop before Ahsoka could retaliate. She glanced back one time, then shook her head and urged her pony after the rest of the clan. She was still Kenobi’s headstrong and wild-hearted young heir, for now. Maybe it might be time to start a new chapter sooner than she’d thought, but not quite yet. Not right now.

And after all, she wasn’t _really_ leaving anything behind. Not for long, at least.

“Hey Skyguy!” she called into the wind. “I bet we crest the hill before that _plowhorse_ you’ve got can get halfway!”


End file.
